Page 93 of Shattered Throne
I was not disappointed.
A private catamaran waited at the resort's dock, sleek and white against the crystal blue water. A crew member in crisp whites helped Kim aboard, and I followed, taking in the setup with genuine admiration. Champagne chilling in a silver bucket. A spread of fresh fruit and pastries on the deck. Plush cushions arranged in the shade of a billowing canopy.
"Xavier." Kim turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. "This is..."
"Too much?"
"I was going to say incredible."
The boat pulled away from the dock, cutting smoothly through the gentle waves. I handed Kim a glass of champagne and settled beside her on the cushions, close enough that our shoulders touched.
"So," I said. "Tell me something I don't know about you."
She laughed. "You know everything. You've read my employee file, probably. Background checked me within an inch of my life."
"I know facts. I want the good stuff. The embarrassing stories. The secret dreams."
"My dreams aren't very exciting." She took a sip of champagne, her eyes on the horizon. "Stability. Security. Making sure Zoe has everything she needs."
"That's not a dream, that's a to-do list. I want the real thing. If you could do anything, be anything, no limitations—what would it be?"
She was quiet for a moment. The boat rocked gently beneath us, the wind catching her hair.
"I used to want to travel," she said finally. "Before Zoe. Before everything. I had this list of places I wanted to see. Paris. Tokyo. The Northern Lights." A small smile crossed her face. "Silly, right? I could barely afford my rent, and I was making bucket lists like I had money to burn."
"It's not silly. It's human." I nudged her shoulder with mine. "What was number one on the list?"
"Greece. The islands. I saw pictures in a magazine once, when I was a kid. All those white buildings with blue roofs, overlooking the water." She shook her head. "I've never even left the country. Never had a passport."
"We should fix that."
She looked at me, something guarded in her expression. "Xavier..."
"I'm serious. When we get back to New York, we're getting you a passport. And then we're going to Greece. You, me, and Zoe. We'll eat ridiculous amounts of feta cheese and take a thousand pictures, and you can cross it off your list."
"You can't just?—"
"I can. I want to." I caught her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. "Let me give you things, Kim. Not because I'm trying to buy you or impress you, but because I want to see you happy. Is that so terrible?"
She stared at our joined hands. When she looked up, her eyes were bright.
"No," she said softly. "It's not terrible."
The catamaran anchored in a secluded cove, the water so clear I could see fish darting between the coral below. We swam, floating on our backs and squinting at the cloudless sky. We ate fresh poke and grilled shrimp with our fingers, laughing when the sauce dripped down our chins. We lay on the deck and talked about everything and nothing—favorite movies, worst first dates, the most embarrassing things we'd done as teenagers.
"Wait." Kim propped herself up on one elbow, grinning. "You crashed your father's boat into a yacht club? On purpose?"
"In my defense, the commodore was a pompous ass who deserved it."
"How old were you?"
"Seventeen. Sebastian had to bail me out. Literally. There was actual bail involved."
She laughed, that full-body laugh that made her whole face light up. I wanted to bottle that sound, keep it somewhere safe, play it back whenever the world felt too heavy.
"Your turn," I said. "Most rebellious thing you ever did."
"I'm not rebellious. I'm responsible."
